arched brows lowered into a frown. “I’m sort of in between accounts right now.”
Suspiciously, she wondered if that was because he was overdrawn. Given his appearance, that was a likely possibility. Waves of sun-striped hair curled at his nape, looking less like a cultural statement than a result of simply forgetting to show up at the barber shop. Or not having the money to spend on personal grooming.
“Then the name of your most recent landlord would be helpful,” she persisted.
He gave that request more thought than it should warrant under normal circumstances. “Actually, I don’t recall I’ve ever had a landlord. Until now. I think I’m going to like it.”
“Look, Mr. Slavik—”
“Kris, with a K.”
“I have a substantial mortgage on this property and I depend on the rents to make my payments. I really must insist—”
“How about I give you a year’s worth of rent? Then you won’t have to worry about all that paperwork.” He dug into his pocket, retrieving the roll of bills Tyler had seen.
“You’re going to pay me in cash?”
“Sure. It’s not counterfeit.”
Maybe not, but the only people she had heard about who dealt in that much cash were drug dealers. Or bank robbers.
Joanna’s eyes widened as he flipped open the roll and began counting out hundred-dollar bills. Good grief, Tyler had been right. The man was totally loaded!
He handed the money to her. “How’s that?” he asked pleasantly.
“Ah, fine, I guess.” It didn’t make any sense to turn down a bird-in-hand worth several thousand dollars in the hope of finding some other tenant with more traditional banking arrangements.
“Good. I’m glad that’s all settled. So how would you like to go out to dinner tonight?”
Joanna did a double take. That was the fastest move any man had ever made on her. “I think not, Mr. Slavik. We’ll just keep our relationship a business one, if you don’t mind.”
“Funny, that’s not the idea I got from your ad.”
“What ad?”
“The one you ran to rent this place.”
An odd feeling of uneasiness prickled along her spine. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“It was a real interesting ad. One hundred percent accurate, too.” Sliding two fingers into his pocket, he pulled out a bit of paper torn from a newspaper. “I really appreciate truth in advertising.”
Curiosity warred with apprehension as he handed her the scrap of paper, still warm from the heat of his body. With dawning understanding, she read the advertisement, which listed her telephone number as the contact:
Attractive, intelligent, marriageable woman with adorable 10-year-old son has office and garage space available to rent. Reasonable rates. Only bachelors need apply.
Her head snapped up; color heated her cheeks. “I didn’t do this. I mean, that’s not the ad…” Joanna lost all sense of composure. Her professional persona crumbled and she babbled, “My mother—she must have…Sometimes she’s—I told her…”
Kristopher Slavik simply grinned at her, that soft, seductive smile that creased his cheek and brought a devilish sparkle to his eyes, doing something wild and impossible to her insides. “So what do you say? How about dinner?”
“No!” In lieu of eating anything, Joanna Greer was going to string up her mother by her conniving, matchmaking thumbs.
He judged that the natural sway of Joanna’s long hair would be the equivalent of a fifteen-degree pendulum swinging across her slender shoulders. But she was embarrassed now, and in her hurried retreat across the street, her silken curls bounced as if they were spring-loaded.
Leaning back against the car, Kris smiled to himself. His new landlady was a very attractive package. Each individual module—eyes that looked to be a light blue, a pert nose, full lips and determined chin—combined as though a skilled artist had had a hand in the design phase. He could see Joanna’s resemblance to her mother and her son, but she was put together with gentler, youthfully feminine curves that were quite appealing.
Odd he’d never before taken such special note of a woman. But then he was the sort of man who usually concentrated on one task at a time, often to the exclusion of all others. Until now he’d never had the inclination to find a wife and start a family of his own. It seemed like an appropriate challenge for a man who had achieved just about everything else he’d set his mind to.
The problem was, though he had learned the intricacies of computer programming by the age of twelve, he had rarely delved into the techniques required for courtship. Except for a torrid affair with a college professor, who had been more brilliant than beautiful—and considerably more experienced than he had been—his contacts with women had typically been either professional or very brief.
From the spark of independence in Joanna’s eyes and the determined lift of her chin, Kris sensed he would need a good deal of skill in a game where he barely knew the rules and had never learned to speak the language. He might not even have an aptitude, he thought with a frown. Although by age twenty he had mastered certain pleasant sexual techniques, courtesy of the professor, neither she or his parents had taught him much about love or affection.
That might leave him at a decided disadvantage with Joanna Greer.
His impulsive announcement that he was an inventor wasn’t likely to have earned him a whole lot of points, either. Although he was looking forward to their first ride together.
At the sound of tires crunching on the gravel parking lot, Kris shifted his attention to the arriving car. A sleek Porsche convertible slid to a stop beside him.
“I’m looking for Joanna Greer,” the man said as he got out of the car. Tall and well built, he looked as if he had just stepped off the pages of an upscale mens wear catalog. Not a single wrinkle marred his silk shirt, and though he drove a convertible with the top down not a hair on his head was out of place. His toothy smile was equally unbelievable.
Kris felt a sharp and unfamiliar surge of aggressiveness and instantly wanted to eliminate the competition. “She’s not around right now,” he said, feigning ignorance.
“You come here about that ad, too?”
“Could be,” he acknowledged, already plotting ways to discourage the intruder.
“Is she a real dog, or what?”
“Dog?”
“Yeah, you know. Women who run ads in newspapers to get a date are usually desperate. At least this one owns a little property. If she isn’t too bad, I figure I’ll let her support me for a while.” He shrugged as if he’d run this scam before and cared nothing about the women he had undoubtedly hurt. “Till I get bored, anyway.”
Kris’s hands clenched into fists. Normally he wasn’t a violent man, but he had to consciously suppress the urge to punch this guy’s lights out. Given the surprising amount of adrenaline surging through his veins, he didn’t think it would be all that hard to do. “Then it looks like you’re barking up the wrong tree. You wouldn’t want to hang around for more than five minutes with Ms. Greer.” Kris would see to it he didn’t last even that long.
The stranger eyed him suspiciously. “You sure you’re not trying to run me off so you can have her all to yourself?”
“Not me,” Kris lied, knowing full well the way to douse a man’s overactive testosterone was to avoid being perceived